Dying Ember of an Open Flame
by that lionhearted vagabond
Summary: Written for HPFC. Lucy and Lysander, midnight on the astronomy tower, plus a bottle of Firewhiskey. M for language, Oneshot


_Written for the Place, Time, Object challenge on HPFC. I got Astronomy Tower. Day after Christmas Break and a bottle of Firewhiskey. My possible pairings were Lysander/Lucy, Scorpius/Lily, Scorpius/Roxanne, I tried to incorporate all three._

_Dying Embers of an Open Flame_

The astronomy tower was occupied, as it almost always was on late nights. It was not however a class that was meeting at tallest point on the grounds, and if the giggling and smacking noises were anything to go by, they weren't star gazing either.

Lucy turns to go, the castle walls were stifling, but there were other places to see the night sky. Her progress is halted though when the smacking sound turns to whispered goodbyes and Roxanne Weasley comes skipping down the stairs.

She sees Lucy of course, almost runs into her on the too narrow stairway. Squeezing by, she winks,

"I won't tell if you don't," she says with a grin before continuing downward.

Lucy can't help but think that the stairs aren't the only the only thing spiraling down.

Still she pushes open the heavy door and steps out into the night air. It's cold, freezing actually. Lucy rubs her arms and fervently wishes that she were back in Sydney. Nice, warm Sydney, with the great open sky, and no constricting corridors.

It might have been another one of Percy's diplomatic trips, but still, Christmas break had been wonderful. Too bad she was back now.

Her plans of staring up into starry night are ruined by the veil of thick grey clouds obstructing her view. Even the moon can't shine bright enough to break through, and in the resulting darkness she can't even see the snowy grounds below, only the boy sitting in front of her. Lucy can't say she's surprised.

"I thought she was dating Scorpius." She says. She doesn't bother filtering her brain and her mouth, hasn't since Percy blew off her tenth birthday to talk to the President of the United States.

"She is, but he's shagging Lily, so it doesn't matter much." Lysander said, pulling off his well-worn leather jacket and tossing it to her.

It smells like cigarettes, and Lucy pulls it on. He's always been chivalrous, despite his rebellious nature and I-don't-give-a-damn attitude.

"Lily, as in Lily Potter, your girlfriend?" Lysander nods again, picking up the half empty firewhiskey bottle and admiring the amber glow it gives to its surroundings.

"I didn't like her much anyway," he says taking a swig, and Lucy is suddenly filled with irrational anger,

"Merlin Lysander, don't you care about _anything!_" She explodes; kicking a crumbled piece of stone with the toe of her shoe and watching it skitter to a halt.

"Why should I?" He asks, getting up from his position slouched on the ground near the wall to come stand by her.

"Because _god-damn-it_ Ly, you have _a fucking spark_. That charisma you have, that makes people pay attention, to want to get to know you, even though you're the biggest bastard in seventh year." He laughs bitterly into the night sky,

"You seen my grades? If I have a spark it's not helping me with anything useful."

"You know just as well as I do that if you gave an ounce of effort you could be top of every single fucking class. Instead you're wasting your time getting drunk on the astronomy tower with your best friend's girlfriend." She snapped, glaring up at him, her breath visible in the cold.

"What's the point?" He throws his arms out to the side, the bottle hanging limply from his hands, his fingers tight around its neck, "What's the fucking point. So I can be like perfect Lorcan, and get into the ministry. Or follow in my parents' footsteps, and discover some worthless animals, and go wherever the hell I want because I'm a _Scamander."_ Lucy knocks the bottle out of his hands and watches as it falls out of sight,

"Don't you dare to talk to _me_ about being _compared_ _to other people_. Percy's the youngest Minister in Wizarding Britain's history, and _Molly_, I'm sure you know about my darling sister Molly, whose in Africa teaching muggles how to read at the moment."

"Piss off Luce," he says, preparing to leave. He pins her arms to her sides when she tries to take the jacket off, before turning and walking away, "and keep the fucking coat," he calls over his shoulder. Lucy watches in silence as he storms down the stairs.

His spark was dying, and there wasn't a thing she could do.


End file.
